The 86th Hunger Games: Welcome to Oblivion
by ASimpleMind94
Summary: SYOT OPEN. 'Life asked Death "Why do people love me but hate you?" to which Death replied "Because you are a beautiful lie, while I am a painful truth"'. 24 Tributes will enter the Arena. There will be a New Head Gamemaker, a tempestuous President and a series of events which could change the political landscape of Panem. This is the 86th Annual Hunger Games, Welcome to Oblivion
1. It Begins

**Hello Readers,**

 **Welcome to my SYOT. I cannot say this is my first, as I have forayed into the world of Fan Fiction before. However, last time I was a student and unable to commit as much time to writing as I needed. My circumstances have changed, and I am ready to try my hand at a SYOT story.**

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Dominic Romanov was never an unintelligent man, he knew that in the eyes of his social and political superiors he had broken the two cardinal rules in his role as Head Gamemaker. One, he hadn't provided enough 'entertainment' for the Capitol audience. Secondly, he had allowed for fuel to be added to the dying embers of hope littered throughout the Districts of Panem. There was only one punishment for anyone with the audacity to have not met the required standards, Dominic Romanov was about to die.

He knew there were a finite amounts of breathes he would take, but he wouldn't die as a coward. When he was hired as Head Gamemaker, the occupational hazards were blatantly obvious to anyone with any quality resembling intelligence. He needed only to review the various 'accidents' which had claimed the lives of his predecessors to understand that wielding poor results was synonymous with death.

But Dominic was young and arrogant. He truly believed that he would surpass any of the Head Gamemakers who came before him: But that wasn't the case. He'd failed. The 85th Hunger Games were predictable, lacking the element of surprise and spontaneity that the audiences lapped up. Not only that, due to a series of unforeseen circumstances and variable beyond even his control: Nathalie Jenson of District 5 claimed the title of Victor.

A girl who had openly questioned the morality of the games, a girl who had pleaded for people to search for their human compassion and prevent the 'uncalled slaughter of twenty three people uninvolved in the crimes they're being punished for'. Her plea had been passionate, and it had shaken Panem to its very core: Capitolites were questioning the validity of the Games, Districts were rallying behind her cause and that one moment spelled the beginning of the end for Mr. Romanov.

A red light flickered on the controls to Dominic's security system. He was coming. The man who had become the judge, jury and executioner on the President's behalf: A lethal shadow who came to reap the souls of those unfortunate enough to have become a source of displeasure for his dear President. His heartbeats were numbered, and he was powerless to stop it: Dominic welcomed the cold embrace of death.

He'd once been ambitious, rearing and ready to prove himself as the greatest Gamemaker in Panem's history. Alas, Dominic had grown tired of being nothing but a puppet to the President's every whim: Re-designing Arenas for their 'lack of distinctive flair'. The constant pressure to elevate the spectacle of the Hunger Games had become too much, the suffocating presence of an impossible to please President had all but sapped his creativity entirely.

Dominic Romanov vowed to be a puppet no longer; he was ready and willing to cut the strings. But he would do it on his own accord, he may have been ready to embrace the fate that the President had decided for him. But he would be damned before he was made to pay for his supposed 'crime' on their terms. Running the indigo orb between his fingers, Dominic marvelled at how something that appeared so inconspicuous could be so toxic.

A simple berry, which when digested releases a flood of neurotoxins into the bloodstream of the one who consumed it. In mere second the synapses of the brain cease to work, and within a minute the nervous system begins to fail: You're technically dead within seconds, but a cerebral disconnect allows for a degree of sensory awareness for a few seconds before the body ceases to function in any capacity. Nightlock.

"Romano…"

* * *

 **Head Gamemaker: Dead.**

 **-** _Aaliyah Cortez_

 _Acclaimed Head Gamemaker, Dominic Romanov, was found dead in the early hours of this morning. He was found in the lounge of his Penthouse Apartment in Hollywood Height in Sector Four, the cause of his death is reported to appear as suicide. Toxic analysis reports show that a high concentration of the neurotoxin coined 'Nightlock' was found in his system. Sources say that Romanov had begun to show signs of depression after the, what critics have described as, 'lacklustre' 85_ _th_ _Annual Hunger Games._

 _While the death of such a prominent figure is truly a tragedy Roland Carter, counsel to President Snow had this to say on the matter:_

" _The death of such a young and talented individual is a great loss for the Capitol, it is a great loss for the whole of Panem. Dominic Romanov innovated what it means to be a Head Gamemaker, he faced great criticism for the 85_ _th_ _Hunger Games but that doesn't annul his previous achievements. But despite the personal loss this is for President Snow, she has insisted that the 86_ _th_ _Hunger Games will continue as expected: She is of the belief that this is what Dominic would've wanted."_

 _While we all share President Snow's loss, we must also respect the wishes of Dominic Romanov. So rather than succumbing to grief, the Capitol must turn its attention to the upcoming 86_ _th_ _Annual Hunger Games. The debut of a new Head Gamemaker, whom will…._

Rosalind Snow threw the newspaper against her ornate desk. Leaning back into the suede chair she called her throne, and fixing Roland Carter with an unimpressed glare. The man in question was unaffected by the young woman's ire, meeting her gaze unflinchingly and drumming his fingers against the article in question.

"Why are you so incensed Rosalind, you said you wanted him dead and he is dead. Are you ever pleased?"

The older man chuckled good naturedly, Rosalind would've been blushing furiously at this moment if her skin had not been permanently dyed an alabaster white. She compromised by narrowing her cerulean eyes further and running a frustrated hand through her ebony locks.

"I don't know Carter. He's dead, but I'm pretty sure I didn't request for him to be poisoned. I wanted a spectacle, something I could spin to alienate the Capitol against Nathalie Jenson's 'Hugs and Peace' bullshit. Now I've got a Head Gamemaker that's committed suicide and some Katniss Everdeen clone."

In her frustration Rosalind swept the numerous papers from her desk, lips pouted contemptuously. A young woman who had succeeded her own Grandfather as President by less than pleasant means, full of ambition and wisdom beyond her years: But prone to the occasional tantrum. Carter closed his grey eyes, more than familiar with the tempestuous temper of the young woman.

"Rosalind, now is not the time for throwing your pacifier from the pram. It's time for you to think of another plan: You're in a delicate situation. You need to maintain your grasp over Panem, before people begin to think you're an incapable ruler. Handle this carefully Rosalind, you know that there are twenty vultures circling overhead who are more than ready to feast on the corpse of your tenure."

His words were spoken in his usual tone of geniality, but there was an edge to Roland's voice that was rare. A sincere warning, there had always been a select few who were suspicious of how Rosalind was able to rise to power without any true opposition. And there were not afraid to cast aspersions on her ability to rule Panem. The mere idea of proving those lecherous snakes correct was enough to make the young woman's rage evaporate.

"You're right. You're right, they want to make me look like a fool and I won't give them that satisfaction. It needs to be something that breaks the District's collective spirit, but also shows that I'm the one pulling the strings. I am the one in ultimate control. And the ones who were voicing their doubts will become the ones singing my praises."

Rosalind's angelic features became twisted with an expression of malicious vindication. Pacing the length of her ostentatiously furnished office she attempted to think of her next step. Her next move to solidify her iron grasp over the Nation: A public execution of Jenson wouldn't suffice, it run the risk of becoming a catalyst for open anarchy on the Districts' behalf.

Carter watched the young woman pace manically, the train of her fuchsia gown whipping from side to side: The elder man had no doubts that the President would formulate a devious plan. One did not simply become President of Panem based on their lineage. They rise to the top of the political hierarchy through ruthless cunning and other means, none of which are particularly legal. Rosalind Snow may appear dainty, but beneath the surface beauty lays a callous tyrant who would cling to her power by any means necessary.

"Carter, I have a plan…"

Rosalind paused, turning to Roland with a euphoric expression painted onto her exquisite features. Carter simply smiled at his ward, leaning back into the chair and enjoying the display of youthful exuberance: Rosalind was clapping her hands together, her blue orbs glazed with the tell-tale signs of a daydream. But these were not the whimsical fantasies of any other twenty three year old, these were the morbid atrocities that took centre stage in the mind of Rosalind Snow.

"So President Snow, what's the masterplan?"

Rosalind took a moment to absorb the phrase 'President Snow', it reminded her of her Grandfather: But that would change. Once the wheels were set into motion for her little plan, she would be the only President Snow worth remembering. Her malicious agenda would make anything Coriolanus Snow II did throughout his presidency look like child's play. Returning to her throne, Rosalind leant against the desk with her chin resting on her hand: The nonchalant appearance disguising her sadistic glee.

"Well Roland, I think it's time that we extended an invite for Nathalie and her family to join us in the Capitol. But please ensure that they're made very aware that if they decide to reject the invitation, there would be…dire consequences on their end. Am I clear?"

It took mere moments for Roland Carter to catch onto the intricacies of Rosalind's plan. And as expected, she has come up with something that would show Panem that she is every bit as malevolent as any President who came before her. Nodding his head graciously, Carter stood and went to inform the Capitol guard to prepare a hovercraft to take him to District Five at the earliest opportunity. As he exited the Presidential Suite, he could hear the elated laughter of his Madame President.

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 **There it is: The prologue of my SYOT.**

 **There will be chapters written in this narrative style, but I will also employ the first person narrative too. For example, I will probably employ the use of third person for things such as the interviews, private Gamemaker sessions and interviews as to not slow the pace of the story. Everything else will be written in the traditional first person format.**

 **I would appreciate your thoughts and opinions on the chapter, either through review or PM. I would prefer a review, but I'm not one to beg.**

 **If you would be interested in submitting a tribute, leave a review and I will get the tribute form to you as soon as possible. If there are multiple submissions to one slot, I will make a decision based on whom I believe will benefit the story as a whole.**

 **I was deliberately vague in this chapter about some details; they will obviously be explored at a later date. I do have some semblance of an idea as to where I would like this story to go.**

 **Simple.**


	2. An Ominous Opportunity

**Good Evening.**

 **I was overwhelmed with the great response to the prologue, people seemed to really enjoy it and that motivated me to get this out to you today.**

 **This chapter we meet Nathalie Jensen, Victor of the 84** **th** **Hunger Games.**

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Nathalie Jensen, Victor of the 84th Annual Hunger Games. The title itself, Victor, summons images of grandeur. The blinding flashes of the paparazzi, the distinctive taste of a fine wine and the raucous laughter of inebriated partygoers. It's almost alien to imagine someone who had fought for the right to be immortalised as a Victor to be doing something as menial as washing the dishes, but Nathalie is not one to comply with social expectations. She was the tribute who found her voice, and by the grace of God was able to escape the Arena that had earned a starring role in the nightmares that haunt her.

And that is why Nathalie is currently washing the dishes, even as a 'Victor' she wouldn't ever argue with the middle aged whirlwind that was Nisha Jensen. Her parents were adamant that surviving the Hunger Games was not enough to warrant not doing chores and not attending school, she was only 16 after all, although they had relented and gotten their eldest daughter a private tutor. Coming from the mania that Nathalie describes her time in the Capitol as, and returning to the routine of life in the Jensen household had become something of a crutch for the young Victor.

A coping mechanism in the times where she would become overwhelmed with memories of the Games, whenever something as simple as birdsong triggered a memory of the atrocities she was forced to witness or commit: The routine was always there. Wake up, breakfast, literary studies, arithmetic, 'talent' practice, dinner and so on. If her mind was kept busy on her studies, her family and her newfound responsibility as the 'Voice of Panem' then it couldn't wonder.

It couldn't summon the grotesque form of Agatha as Nathalie stumbled upon her charred corpse, it couldn't replicate the desperate screams of Nolan as he clawed desperately at the cliff edge before plummeting to his demise, the final battle as Nathalie found herself exhausted and ready to succumb to the wintry embrace of Death as Andromache of District 2 stalked towards her readying her Tomahawk for the final blow.

If her mind was kept busy then Nathalie could cling to the solitary moments of normality, when she was nothing more than Nathalie Jensen of District Five. The daughter of Nisha and Gregory Jensen, engineers at the Power Plant. She could cling to the moments when she was nothing more than almost boringly average. Spying Nyla and George, her younger siblings running amok in the garden, Nathalie couldn't help but chuckle as she saw her father running after them and trying to restore order.

This was one of those moments of 'normality' that Nathalie viewed as more precious than any gem mined in District One. They had become the anchor that tethered her to reality, which allowed her to remember that she was no longer fighting for her life in the Arena: She was the one who had survived the games. For as Finnick had told her months ago on her Victory Tour, no one ever truly won the Hunger Games.

Piling the crockery back into the appropriate cupboards, Nathalie wiped her hands on her slacks before pulling her hair into a ponytail: It was Wednesday, and in laymen terms that meant it was Nathalie's turn to empty the bins and put away the laundry. The life of a sixteen year old Victor is not as glamorous as it is made out to be. As she finished piling the laundry into the separate baskets for each family member, there was a resounding knock at the door. The sudden noise made Nathalie tense unexpectedly, closing her eyes she took a deep breath and reminded herself she was at home. This wasn't the Arena, she was home in District Five.

"Nat, can you grab the door please? I'm trying to finish this paperwork for Bethan and I don't even know where your Dad and the others have gotten to."

Nathalie sighed, for one moment she was regretting remaining in her childhood home rather than relocating to the Victor's Village. In fact it was a completely stupid decision on her part, their modest townhouse in the suburb of District Five was definitely 'full to capacity' and it allowed for anyone to pop in for a quick visit: Whether to simply congratulate her on her Victory and thank her for the District wide spoils that said Victory afforded, or to try and talk to her about her philosophies of non-violence.

For the first few weeks it was flattering, and Nathalie found no greater pleasure than entertaining her fellow District folk: But over time it became wearisome and eventually plain annoying, and in this instance it was far more annoying than a pleasure. She may not have accepted the house in Victor Village on the means that she refused to accept a gift on the premise of surviving while twenty three other children died, but right now she was longing for the protection of the gated community.

"Of course Mama, Papa is outside trying to rein the twins in by the way."

Nathalie rolled her eyes at her mother's answering grunt, far too immersed in her report on solar powered catalytic convertors to even acknowledge a word her daughter said. Pausing at the door, Nathalie arranged her features into the genial smile that had become the mask she hid behind whenever she was around anyone but her family and closest friends. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open. As soon as she saw who stood behind the door, her stomach began to tie itself in knots and her heart plummeted. Roland Carter, none other than the second in command to President Rosalind Snow himself.

"Ah, Nathalie it is truly a pleasure to see you again. You look… radiant."

Wearing a suit constructed of scarlet satin, the elderly man stood out amongst the grey backdrop District Five had to offer. Nathalie opened her mouth, but her words failed her. She was desperately trying to recall any Victor ever mentioning the President's head advisor ever dropping by for an unannounced visit, and she was drawing blanks: Despite the warm smile on his wizened features, Nathalie was not naïve enough to believe this was nothing but a simple visit of exchanging pleasantries and mindless chit chat.

"Mr. Carter, the pleasure is mine. Although I must say I'm surprised by your visit, is there a reason why you're here?"

Carter icy grey eyes narrowed, contrasting with the warm smile. Nathalie had tried her hardest to keep the accusation out of her voice, but the resentment she felt for the Capitol and those who uphold their savage ideals was difficult to suppress. Her mind was instantly filled with murmurs of 'accidents' that tended to happen around those who did not hold favour with the Capitol, and she was pretty certain that questioning the morality of one of Panem's most celebrated traditions is not a way of maintaining favour.

"Ah, Miss Jensen. You were always one of the smarter ones, and it is true that I'm here to discuss some business on the behalf of our Madame President. But it is business best not discussed on someone's doorstep."

The implication was clear that he wanted to be invited indoors. But Nathalie was all too familiar with what happens behind the proverbial closed door, and she didn't want to take any risks with her family so close by. If he was here to kill her then so be it, but she wouldn't take the risk of anything happening to her family. She found herself swallowing bile at the mere thought of this man being within one hundred feet of her family.

"Please come in then Mr Carter, I would have no greater pleasure than playing host to someone so prolific."

Stepping aside, she gestured for the elderly man to come inside. As he passed her she almost flinched as every hair on her body stood on end, she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her system as she took in the man's slight build. She could easily overpower him, but how would she explain the dead body of an influential Capitolite being found in her home? As if he could read her mind, Carter turned and raised his eyebrow before waggling his finger as though he were scolding a disobedient child.

"Mr. Carter, I must say I'm surprised that you've come to visit me without a security detail of some sort. Although I doubt it would happen, you know there are more than a few District folk who are not fond of Capitolites, especially those as distinguished as yourself."

As soon as Nathalie spoke the words, she was wishing that she could swallow them or that Mr. Carter was struck by a sudden bout of temporary deafness. The offhand observation came across as a barely veiled threat. If she were not in such a precarious position, Nathalie would have found the scenario hilarious but instead she felt her palms beginning to sweat profusely and a sudden desire to scream for her family to run for their lives. Carter on the other hand took no notice of Nathalie's threat, simply smiling to himself he continued to survey the modest home with barely contained disdain.

"No need to be surprised Nathalie, delegates of the Capitol are never left unprotected. Whether or not others are able to see the protection is another thing, but as you said I am most certainly 'distinguished' and therefore afford the greatest protection the Capitol have to offer. I, on the other hand, have a small observation to make of my own: I must say I was very surprised to discover the house allocated to you in the Victor's Village was unfurnished. I had to ask Darlene Wolfowitz where you were staying. Don't you think it seems a little ungrateful on your behalf not to have accepted the home offered to you by the Capitol?"

Carter turned to face Nathalie, his hands gesturing to the pale yellow walls of her hallway. The young woman took a moment to collect her thoughts, one second it appeared she held the advantage in this war of subtle nuances and the very next the advantage had shifted. Nathalie doubted that the Capitol responded well to District folk being ungrateful, she was floundering like a fish out of water trying to pull an explanation from thin air. Carter's patronizing smile grew wider as Nathalie was struggling to find something to say.

"The decision was not Nathalie's to make. She is only 16, and until she is 18 Nathalie's living situation is decided on by my husband and I. We feel as though this house is full of memories that we were simply not ready to leave behind, it is the house that we have raised our family in and we did not want to disturb the lives of our other children by moving across town."

Relief mingled with unadulterated fear as Nathalie spied her mother coming down the stairs. Nathalie had always admired her mother's ability to have an answer for any question, her intellect made sure of that, but right now she was beginning to resent that particular quality. As Nisha Jensen came to stand beside her daughter, Nathalie wished that her mother would've simply stayed upstairs. The outcome of this situation was becoming bleaker by the minute, Carter on the other hand was grinning like the Cheshire Cat as his grey eyes glittered with triumph.

"Nathalie, is this young woman your mother? Greetings, I am Roland Carter. Senior Advisor to President Snow."

Carter took my mother's hand in his own before brushing his lips against the back of her hand. Nathalie had the sudden urge to slap his hand away, to protect her mother from the Capitolite's twisted version of 'charm'. As Carter released her mother's hand his grey eyes found Nathalie's murky brown orbs and he raised an eyebrow in challenge. Nathalie took a deep breathe, and felt her mother capture her hand. In her peripheral vision she saw her mother shake her head once, as if she could sense Nathalie beginning to lose control. Nisha squeezed her daughter's hand once as if to say that she would take care of things from this point.

"Nisha Jensen, and while it is a great honour to have someone so esteemed in our household. Could I trouble you to ask why you are here?"

Nathalie's heart was racing, she couldn't help it. Inside the Arena, her instincts had guided her to Victory but now her instincts were screaming at her that this, whatever it was, was not going to end well. Clinging to her mother as though she were a lifeline, Nathalie watched as Carter remained motionless: Like a serpent coiled in the grass, ready to strike its unsuspecting prey. Tilting his head to the right, Carter appeared to find pleasure in the young Victor's growing discomfort.

"Thank you for asking Mrs. Jensen. May I call you Nisha? But before we discuss the opportunity I have to offer you, maybe it would be prudent for you to find your husband and other children: This 'opportunity' concerns you all after all. Maybe Nathalie could show me to the parlour, or whatever the equivalent may be here in Five, while you round up the rest of your family?"

Nathalie froze for a second, reluctant to relinquish her grip on her mother's hand while Carter looked between the two Jensen women, barely containing his amusement. Nathalie noticed her mother's expression, the middle aged woman looked as close to petrified as Nathalie had ever seen her.

The ominous 'opportunity' Carter spoke of was something that wouldn't benefit the Jensen family in the slightest, both women were aware of that. Seeing her usually unshakeable mother barely concealing horror was enough for Nathalie to begin imagining the worst: Her twin siblings lying in a pool of their own blood, while Nathalie and her parents were restrained and forced to watch as they were tortured in some sick way that only a Capitolite could think of.

"Of course Mr Carter, I'll go and fetch my husband and other children. Nathalie, please show our guest to the lounge and we will join you shortly."

Despite the terror held in her brow eyes, Nisha Jensen's voice remained as steady as ever. Silently imploring her daughter to try and remain as cordial as possible in her absence, Nisha left to find her husband and other children without uttering another word. As soon as Nathalie and Carter were alone, she gestured for him to follow her: Her stance rigid as Carter began to hum the National Anthem of Panem, the very same tune that would play as the images of the Fallen Tributes were projected into the night sky. A shiver travelled down Nathalie's spine, a silent affirmation that whatever was coming would make her experience in the 84th Hunger Games look like nothing more than a walk in the park.

* * *

The image before her was unsettling. Nathalie looked between the two parties sat on either side of the coffee table, which had become a metaphorical battle line. On one side sat her mother and father, sat upright their hands firmly entwined and their eyes wide as they tried to handle the delicate situation. Her siblings stood behind the couch, hiding from the man that they could tell was dangerous despite their youth. Nathalie stood between the two parties, too anxious to sit as she was ready to intercede on her family's behalf at any moment. The Jensen family were all radiating fear, an odour that reeked of anxiety, desperation and hopelessness permeating the air.

In contrast, Roland Carter looked as relaxed as Nathalie's family were petrified. Looking at family photos and making offhand remarks about Nathalie's resemblance to the various relatives housed in the frames littered throughout the lounge, complementing the décor albeit sarcastically. Even his clothes marked his difference to the other occupants of the room, the scarlet of his suit clashing with the modest clothing of the Jensen family and their mismatched furniture.

Once Carter had described the opportunity, Nathalie became less terrified and more suspicious: Why would Rosalind Snow want to offer her family Capitol Citizenship? It seemed her parents echoed her suspicions as they were, as politely as possible, trying to refuse the 'opportunity'.

"It wouldn't be good to disrupt the children's way of life so drastically."

"I'm unsure how the educational system works in the Capitol, it wouldn't be fair to put Nathalie and her siblings at such a disadvantage."

"We have research here, we're more than unlikely not qualified for any occupations the Capitol has to offer."

"Living in the Capitol could disturb Nathalie's duties as a Mentor to the District's tributes."

Nisha and Gregory were both making valid arguments, and Carter simply remained silent throughout the barrage of one hundred and one reasons why the Jensen family shouldn't accept the offer of citizenship in the Capitol. But Nathalie had an overwhelming feeling that the decision had already been made, and any arguments made against it were futile. As her parents continued to name reasons that they should remain in District Five, Nathalie's eyes were firmly fixed on the President's right hand man. He appeared to be listening with polite interest, until he cleared his throat and brought an abrupt end to her parents' reasoning.

"While your arguments are very pragmatic, the President would ensure that you adjust nicely into Capitolite society. I think you're being rather short sighted in the grand scheme of things, not only monetary wealth would be a pro. Also, the knowledge that no matter what your other children, young Nyla and George, would never be at risk of being Reaped to participate in the Hunger Games. But while your arguments may stand, the decision does not belong to you: Upon winning the 84th Annual Hunger Games, Nathalie became head of the Jensen family and you are legally bound to follow any decision she may make regarding family matters. So what is it Nathalie? Are you refusing the President's offer? I feel obligated to mention, that she was very adamant that you should take this opportunity."

All eyes were suddenly on Nathalie, she could see her father prompting her to tell Carter that the Jensen's were to remain in District Five. Her brother and sister looked confused, although Nyla looked as though she was seconds away from bursting into tears. But it was her mother that Nathalie looked towards, the pillar of strength and the heart of the Jensen family, in her eyes Nathalie saw the same sense of hopelessness and grim acceptance that she was sure reflected in her own features. Turning away from her family she turned to face the serpent wearing scarlet.

"Be honest Mr. Carter, what consequences would there be if I were to refuse on my family's behalf?"

Nathalie waited with bated breath for him to answer, silently praying that he would burst into laughter and rescind the offer. Maybe declaring that we were being pranked in some elaborate Capitol TV show, but the faux grave set to his features deflated those hopes pretty quickly. Drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair, Carter's eyes seemed to travel across every member of her family before finally resting on Nathalie. The corners of his lips quirking up, a mockery of a smile.

"Well, how can I put this nicely: Miss Snow is rather enthusiastic about the idea. And what she wants, the President tends to get. By any means necessary, and I would be lying if she hadn't implied for me to resort to 'aggressive negotiations' to guarantee your compliance."

Carter didn't have to explain what he had meant with the phrase 'aggressive negotiations', the meaning was loud and clear. The intake of breathe behind her also signalled that her family had understood the meaning behind the words, there was no other answer. Despite not believing in what the Hunger Games stood for, Nathalie had fought as hard as any other tribute to return home to her family and she wouldn't endanger them for anything. Before she could even answer, Carter had clapped his hands together gleefully.

"We wouldn't want to upset the President, Mr. Carter, which would be very foolish on our behalf. So, as the head of the Jensen family, I accept the offer of Capitol Citizenship."

The words tasted like battery acid slipping from her tongue, the overly formal acceptance was the only sign of rebellion Nathalie could utilize to demonstrate her displeasure at what was happening. Nathalie knew that whatever President Snow had planned, this wasn't the end of it. Everything was spinning out of control, and destruction was guaranteed but looking back at her family Nathalie sincerely hoped that at least they would survive the oncoming car crash and be able to piece their lives back together.

* * *

They'd only had minutes, on Carter's insistence they had been told to pack only the most important of items. Things they couldn't get in the Capitol, or things of sentimental value. Nathalie had ran to her bedroom and burst into tears, throwing various things into a small satchel: Her journal, the small signet ring that had been her District token in the Games, a sketch pad and photos of friends that she wasn't sure she would ever see again. The Jensen household became a site of mania as people were rushing from room to room collecting their most precious belongings.

Nathalie heard her mother soothing her siblings who were hysterical: Crying that they didn't want to leave, that they had friends here. She could feel her father's disappointment, although he knew the consequences: Gregory Jensen believed that his daughter, as a Victor, should have been able to change the tide of events. What had begun as a simple day, one of the few days where Nathalie was able to forget momentarily the horrors of the Arena, had become a day that would change the lives of the Jensen family forever.

As they headed towards the train station, accompanied by Carter and a heavily armed legion of guards, the Jensen family took one last look at the District they had all called home for as long as they can remember. A sob tore from Nathalie's throat as she tried to burn every detail of the familiar skyline into her memory, this was home and it was being torn away: She didn't know when, or even if, she would ever see the Power District ever again. She didn't know if she would hear the constant hum of electricity emanating from the Power Plants, or feel the static in the air.

"Goodbye"

A pitiful lament, but what else could she say to District Five, the places and the people who had been woven into the tapestry of her life for sixteen years. The places and the people she was sure would never appear on the tapestry again.

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 **And there it is, please review and tell me what you thought of the chapter. Also, feel free to try and guess what else Rosalind might have in store for the Jensen family.**

 **Next chapter will be the final chapter before the Reapings begin. Until we enter the Games, the tributes will be the only perspectives written in the first person narrative: But once they're in the Arena, when addressing the Capitol sub plot people such as Nathalie and Rosalind will be given first person POV's.**

 **What did we think of Nathalie?**

 **What will happen next?**

 **Remember to leave a review.**

 **Simple.**

* * *

 **Here is a list of the tributes that I've already decided on. Now, some of you still have the form and haven't returned it yet: If possible, could you tailor it to one of the empty slots thank you.**

 **Tribute List**

 **District One**

 **Male: Vesper Reiss, 17.**

 **Female: Guinevere 'Gwen' Arbor, 18.**

 **District Two**

 **Male: Invictus Clarke, 18.**

 **Female: Carmen Paloma Rodriguez, 18.**

 **District Three**

 **Male:**

 **Female: Jewelia Ann Jones, 13.**

 **District Four**

 **Male: Sauger Cood, 18.**

 **Female: Leona Everett, 18.**

 **District Five**

 **Male: Aximand Sollars, 16.**

 **Female: Elira Jade Watts, 17.**

 **District Six**

 **Male: Jupiter Kane, 15.**

 **Female:**

 **District Seven**

 **Male: Ash Turner, 17.**

 **Female: Ashaya Rainier, 17.**

 **District Eight**

 **Male: Ruden Yarnet, 17.**

 **Female:**

 **District Nine**

 **Male: Emmet Rhett, 17.**

 **Female: Katie Saline, 18.**

 **District Ten**

 **Male: Django Hemingway, 17.**

 **Female: Calliope Swanson, 16.**

 **District Eleven**

 **Male:**

 **Female:**

 **District Twelve**

 **Male:**

 **Female:**

 ***As you can see, some of the tributes ages have been modified: I need some younger tribute in the 12-14 Category. 12 year olds are not guaranteed bloodbaths, younger tributes is something I am looking forward to exploring throughout the story. So to the people who already have the form, try and make a younger tribute if possible: Unless their backstory warrants being 17/18.**


End file.
